The Bitter with the Sweet
by Darlin
Summary: Despite Logan's miserable life desperate hope rises when he meets a woman whose smile and very being seem to call to him. Though they may never meet again, against all hope, and despite the conflagration of his despair, he vows to become a better man for her while hoping against odds of meeting her again.


**The Bitter with the Sweet**

 **by Darlin**

 **Disclaimer** – I don't own any recognizable Marvel/Disney/Fox (hah hah!) characters, as we all know, and make no profit from this other than the sheer delight of writing Logan longing for Ororo.

 **-xox-**

When a silver 2010 Chevrolet super sport camaro coupe pulled up to Hudson's gas station, the hero of our story, one Logan Howlett, didn't bother to look up. He was busy changing the last of two belts on an old Chevrolet truck. The hood blocked his view but he guessed his customer was a woman as heels clicked on the concrete pad where he was working. He took a sip from a red plastic cup then set it down on the air filter, picked up a cigar, stuck it in a corner of his mouth, and kept on working. Finally she cleared her throat and he rolled his eyes.

"What can I do for ya, lady?" he asked shortly as he finished.

"Uhm, my car, it – I would like you to tell me what is wrong with my car. A warning light came on. Will you help me?"

The sound of desperation he was used to but he was caught off guard when she quickly tossed that aside and her soft voice turned surprisingly firm. That was unusual but so was her accent, unexpected and exotic. Everything about her voice, tone, accent, attitude, instantly captured him, sending a thrill through him. As he straightened up he caught sight of a pair of long, brown, shapely legs and his breath hitched. Her attitude, her voice, those legs – he could hardly believe the face could match!

"I would appreciate it if you would look at my car," she insisted and he thought he caught a note of irritation which made him grin with anticipation.

"Yeah, give me a minute," he said as he pulled a rag out of his rear pocket then wiped his hands which didn't get much cleaner after he was done. And he was surprised to see his hands were actually shaking. He looked at them then removed his stogie and took a long draught from his cup. Some what fortified, he took a deep breath then stepped from behind the truck and as he did so everything in Logan's world changed.

When he saw the face and body to those long legs he absently set his cup down and stuffed the cigar back in his mouth. But the cup missed its mark and fell, splashing gin everywhere. He didn't notice. He was staring at the woman with his mouth open. He hadn't seen a woman like her in, well, he didn't know how long it had been but it was a long, long time.

The woman was in a short, white sun dress with blue flowers on it and she wore a large straw sun hat with a blue band and a white flower on it. The large white rimmed sunglasses she had on made him think she should be carrying one of those teacup pooches like those Hollywood actresses did. In fact, he felt she could be someone famous only he wouldn't actually know because he didn't watch TV anymore. He watched her look around the place before taking her sunglasses off. It was then that he felt his knees actually get weak. She had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen! She smiled and he smiled back – he couldn't help it – her smile was so bright and so open that it made him feel a sudden rush of joy.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi." It was all he could say because he was utterly spell bound.

They looked at each other in silence. Both noticed that she was a head taller than him. He didn't care. He was captured by her voice, her beauty and something else, her presence, and her – her what? He didn't know what it was exactly but he felt inexplicably drawn to her and suddenly anxious to help. But he just stood there with his forgotten stubby cigar hanging precariously in his mouth while he stared.

"My car is over there," she said, nodding in some vague direction as she wrinkled her nose at the stench of the cigar.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah." He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was but when she frowned he came back down to earth. " Uh, _where's_ your car?"

Her frown grew. She wondered what was in that cup he'd been drinking and spilled all over someone's engine.

He looked at her a little sheepishly, recalling her nodding in some direction, then as he caught a glimpse of a silver vehicle parked nearby he actually did a double take.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. This was the car of his dreams! If he'd been salivating before he was almost drooling as he walked over to the brand new Chevrolet camaro. He grinned like it was Christmas and his birthday rolled into one as he stopped in front of it. He didn't see her smile. She was beginning to think he just might know his cars after all.

"Can ya pop the hood?" he asked eagerly as he glanced at her.

Her mouth closed as she realized she'd been staring. "Of course," she said, smiling sheepishly and she opened the driver's door then got inside.

He didn't know that she watched his every move, his tanned muscular arms exposed in his black t-shirt, his biceps flexing when he contracted his arms, thick, black hair peeking out at the top of the tee. She wondered at his unique hairstyle, wild, pointed on either side. He had no tattoos and she thought that he should. She imagined they were hidden and that he was married or had lots of girlfriends. He was short and roughly handsome and everything about him screamed one hundred percent male! It was electrifying, overpowering and heart stopping.

"Some car ya got here," he said after looking under the hood and marveling over the beauty of the new 6.2 liter V8 engine at 426 horsepower.

"I know, I love it!" she replied, smiling as if she really did. "I park it where I can always see it too. I guess that sounds a little weird but I am so in love with this car!"

He nodded, grinning. "I'd do the same thing if I had one. Most women don't think like that." He closed his mouth, immediately sorry for his last comment and added, "Uh, um, no offense."

She laughed. "I am _not_ most women."

His mouth fell open again but he quickly shut it, thinking, she'd got that right!

"What's wrong with her?" she asked.

"Her?"

"Mmm, my Belle, I always name my cars. She's my Belle."

He nodded. He could appreciate that.

"Is it serious? I mean she's almost brand spanking new!"

"She's so new 2010 ain't even here yet – it's just summer!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand ten camaro coupe fifth generation based off of the '69 camaro and a super sport at that! Darlin', this is one beaut of a monster. And a six-speed manual transmission too! Damn! If you want power you definitely got it with this!"

"Well, you know your cars."

He looked from the beaut to the beauty.

"Brand spanking new and a warning light's already on," she said with a shrug of uncertainty.

Logan lost his train of thought as he thought of spanking and other things he tried to force from his mind.

"Is it going to cost a lot?" she asked when he didn't respond.

"Huh? Oh, no. It's, uh . . ." he caught himself, bit his lip slightly then shrugged. "I'm . . . I'm gonna need ta look at her some more."

She nodded now.

"Maybe I should give it a spin," he suggested.

"Right, of course."

"If you want you can come along," he said, looking at her hopefully.

"Ah . . ."

He saw her hesitation. "I don't bite, I promise."

"Much?" she asked with a smile, all hesitation gone, and he laughed.

They drove out of the station and down the road for a few miles, Logan grinning as he drove even though she'd insisted that he couldn't smoke in her car. He'd carelessly stubbed his cigar out and dropped it into a bucket of sandby the front door. He was getting the opportunity to ride around with the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen and in his favorite car that he hadn't even expected to see for another month or two! It couldn't get much better, he thought, truly happy for the first time in a very long time.

"My name is Ororo," she introduced herself as they drove.

"Or-ora?" he said, struggling with her name.

She laughed and he thought the sound was like joy filled music and he grinned. She repeated the pronunciation and he tried it again and she nodded and they both smiled.

"I'm Logan," he said.

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Logan."

He glanced at her, smiling wider and feeling as if he might burst with joy. He felt literally high. It was exhilarating being behind the wheel with a wicked, hot woman at his side. And it only got better. They just happened to cross paths with his ex wife at the only stoplight in the little town at the courthouse and he honked his horn to get her attention.

"Is something wrong?" Ororo asked, not seeing the red head glaring at them on a park bench where she was waiting for her husband to pick her up.

"Testing," he commented and grinned the harder.

"So, what do you think it is?" Ororo asked after they got back to the station and he'd raced around the car to open the door for her.

"Needs ta be reset is all," he admitted. He couldn't help frowning at his honesty.

"How long will it take?"

He shrugged. If he fixed it like he should, just a few minutes. If he wanted to keep her there with him, maybe an hour or more. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

"Thank you."

He looked at her. He took a step towards her then quickly collected himself, backed up, turned and headed to the office. As he passed a white plastic chair where he'd left the twin to the red plastic cup he'd had earlier he picked it up, ignoring the fly that flew off the rim of the cup and took a long, deep drink, draining the cup. His nerves needed steadying and gin was his reliable go to remedy.

"Hey, Logan, when will my bike be ready?" a handsome, brown haired man in sunglasses asked when Logan entered the office.

"It'll be ready when I told ya, Scooter," Logan growled.

Scooter frowned as he got up from one of the two ragged chairs in the office. "You told me it would be ready yesterday," he said.

"Uh. Oh, yeah. Okay, I'll get it fixed now. Uh . . . well, after I help this lady. She just came in."

Scooter looked out the glass door to see who Logan was talking about then he whistled when he saw.

"Show some respect!" Logan snapped.

"Wow, I never thought you'd say something like that!" Scooter replied, surprised.

Logan didn't like Scooter whose real name was Scott Summers. Probably because his ex wife had been Scott's girl before Logan had stolen her from him and married her even though he'd been pretty sure she'd still cared for Scooter. That had been his life, a kind of tangled triangle of jealousy. Years of it. So when his ex had suggested that he let Scooter tag along the next time he took their son hunting he'd immediately rejected the idea even though he'd thought how easy it would be to show him up. Scooter, a city boy, was a decent enough hunter but Logan was a lot better having grown up hunting since he was knee high – just like his son.

Logan didn't like to think about that. His wife had gone on and on, nagging him, and he'd finally just yelled, "Shut up!" with a few expletives thrown in. And then, after she'd cried and raged and acted all hurt and pitiful he'd finally agreed.

So that weekend he'd taken his son out for their second hunt of the season, both eager for some venison this time. It was stupid competition – he'd blamed his wife. If Scooter hadn't been there Logan and his son would've been together instead of separated. His son had a big heart, bigger than Logan's, and the boy had taken Scooter under his wing. Sometimes Logan had wondered if his son was really his when he did things like that. But he never wondered again after that day.

It was foolish, amateurish, shooting at first movement. His son hadn't been wearing his reflective vest because he'd given it to Scooter who hadn't thought to bring one. And Logan's shot was true. His son was dead. Just like that. His son was dead because of Scott Summers and Logan's nag of a wife. His son who had lived a good life, his smart as a whip red headed boy with the ready grin who'd just fallen in love with a girl for the first time and was planning a bright future. Logan never used a gun again, got rid of his whole collection. Weapons of destruction. His son's life destroyed in that one second of his finger pulling a trigger. With his son's life taken so was Logan's.

He'd never been the same after that. And every time Logan thought of it he died a little more. Gin couldn't make that go away but it dulled the pain at least. Oh, how the pain ate at him! Every waking hour. He couldn't get through the day if it weren't for the gin that numbed his soul.

He'd lost everything, his beloved son, his wife whom he'd accused and cursed, his job because he couldn't work, couldn't think in his alcoholic haze, his house, his truck, his RV. He was a shell of a man that ended up living above the garage where he now worked. An old marine buddy of his had hired him and helped him out of pity. James Hudson and his wife were the only souls in town that had any regard or concern for him. Logan was a loud, mean drunk and most people loathed or feared and avoided him.

He mostly stayed to himself. He'd slink into the local Circle K and get his microwaved hot dogs and sandwiches, a lot of junk, grab some cheap cigars then go down the street to the liquor store where he got his real sustenance. He washed his clothes in the washing machine in the garage that they used to clean rags and he cut his own hair so he didn't have to see anyone or be near anyone much. He didn't want anything or anyone. He didn't need anything or anyone. Just the numbness. He couldn't function if he was wide awake and alive. He had to be near dead drunk in order to survive. And he'd been working on that all morning.

The bell above the door to the office jingled. Both men looked up as Ororo came in and she smiled her bright, open smile.

"Uh, yeah, Summer's I'll have your bike ready tonight after I fix Ororo's car," Logan said, staring at Ororo hungrily.

"Uh, yeah," Summer's replied, unable to stop staring at Ororo.

"Red's expecting you ain't she?" Logan said, glancing at Scooter, feeling irritated when he saw Scooter staring at Ororo!

"Huh?"

"Remember your _wife_?"

"Wife . . . ? Oh! Yeah. Uh, yeah, okay. Uh, I'll be back tonight then."

Logan and Ororo both watched Scott leave. One with annoyance and relief, the other with little concern.

"So, uh, it'll be a while for your car. Uh, if ya want ya can wait here an' read a magazine. It's cooler here, got the A/C on," Logan said, having decided to keep her there as long as possible.

She nodded and started to sit but then she looked at the two worn chairs, the faux leather material ripped and dirty, and she stopped. She looked around the shabby office which was just as dirty and then shook her head. "I will . . . um . . . just wait outside – get some vitamin D."

He watched her stride out of the ratty office until he couldn't see her in view any longer then he looked around the dingy office and suddenly felt as dirty as it looked. He quickly bolted out a side door leading to the garage bay then he went out a rear door and hit the nearby stairs two at a time. He threw the door to his little apartment open then stopped. He frowned as he looked around the mess that he lived in feeling ashamed. But then he hurried to the tiny bathroom and turned the hot water on full blast. He washed his hands, his face, ran a comb through his oily hair and brushed his teeth and gargled with mouthwash. After his quick ablutions he looked in the mirror above the sink.

"Okay, calm down, you've got this," he said into the mirror and nodded at his refection.

He thought of Ororo down below, waiting for him, and with a sigh he went out to fix her car. It didn't take long. He'd wanted to tell her it was an overnighter and maybe they could get a beer or something, have dinner, go back to his room. But that wouldn't have been right. And it was a stupid idea. He couldn't even imagine taking her up to his dinky, little efficiency above the dirty garage. But he couldn't stop thinking about taking her. Even so, the tire reset took longer than it should have.

She was sitting outside in the white plastic chair that had held his spare cup of alcohol, her head thrown back, a cell phone placed on her hat which was on her lap. Her eyes were closed and her face was beautiful in its peacefulness. He saw her chest heave slowly, rhythmically – full, beautiful breast. He hadn't wanted a woman that badly maybe never. He was glad that she seemed to be dozing. He tried to think of something to calm him down but then she was opening her eyes, so brilliantly blue, and he couldn't think or speak and then she was putting her phone in a pocket of her dress, puffing up her hat from the dent the phone had made. She stood up and she was so, so close. He could just reach out . . .

"So?" she asked.

He blinked. "Uh, yeah . . . ya must've had a tire changed from the looks of it."

"I did! Well they plugged it. There was a nail in it."

"Yeah, thought something like that. I just reset it is all," he said.

"That was it?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you so much!"

He grinned at her genuine gratitude.

"How much do I owe you, Logan?"

"Aw, don't worry about it, it didn't take long."

She studied him. He looked different. It took her a bit to see that he was actually cleaner as if he'd taken the time to make himself presentable. She smiled. It definitely added to his sex appeal. His generosity made him even more attractive to her and for a moment she saw herself in his arms, him picking her up and carrying her to – to where? That dirty office? She shuddered at the memory then sighed at her stupidity.

"So, um, where ya headed, Ororo?"

"New York – a little town called Salem Center."

"Staying long?"

"A week."

"Uh huh. Well, when you head back stop by an' I'll check her out again," he said boldly.

She smiled and nodded readily. "I will! I really appreciate that, Logan." And she held out her hand which he looked at a moment before he wiped his hands on the front of his jeans then hesitantly took it.

He held her hand as if it were precious. But she gave him an unexpected firm handshake. The power in her sure grip surprised and aroused him so that when she pulled her hand away he was still standing there again hoping she wouldn't see how she was affecting him. But then she was walking away from him and before he knew it she was in her car – that beautiful camaro – and she was starting the engine and then pulling out of the station. And then, as if he'd suddenly woke up he was walking then running after her. But she was in that beautiful, fast car and burning rubber, leaving black thread marks as a parting gift. And with a wave of her hand out the window, dust in her rear view mirror, Ororo was gone, out of his life for good, just as simple as that.

 **-xox-**

As Ororo drove off she was smiling. Free service! That was something. _He_ was something! Logan. She wondered what his last name was and again if he was married or seeing someone. She hadn't seen a ring but nowadays that didn't mean anything. For all she knew he was a regular on Tinder. And yet why would he be when he was as attractive as he was?

There had been something powerful about their interaction. She wondered if he'd felt it and suppose he hadn't. And yet it felt so, so what? So primal and yet comfortable. And it had felt so carnal, just sheer animal magnetism. Being married to a mechanic could definitely come in handy, she thought. But that made her frown. Why was she thinking of marriage? She shook her head. Her GPS was telling her to veer right onto a ramp to get to the interstate. She wished she weren't going to visit her friend. She wished she could turn around and go back. Back to Logan!

She didn't know what to think about the overwhelming attraction she'd felt for him. It had taken her by surprise, left her nearly speechless. But it would remain unspoken, secret, and she'd never see him again. It was weird how attraction worked. It had been obvious that she had been the only one that had felt the attraction. Or maybe he had but just didn't have the nerve to speak up.

She wanted to believe he'd felt it too. The way he'd stared, how he'd immediately been ready to help her when he'd gotten a look at her. But she was used to men going out of their way to help her. Still, he was different. He'd obviously cleaned up for her. That made her grin. She couldn't stop grinning. She hoped he wasn't usually slovenly. She chuckled. She was already planning on hanging out with a man she didn't know and wouldn't see again after having him check her car when she came back because she was most definitely going back to have him check her car even though she knew good and well it didn't need checking.

She thought of turning around and getting a room for a few nights. She felt a little slutty at that thought. How was she supposed to handle _that_?

"Oh, by the way, I got a room at the Mayberry Inn, want to come up, see me some time?" She laughed at what she'd just said out loud. Yep, slutty. And was she that desperate? For love, yes. Maybe. Okay, yes.

And why not? He was handsome, nice, built, just a beautiful specimen of what a man should be. Except he was short. She didn't have a particular type that she was attracted to but she'd never dated a short guy. Of course there was a first time for everything. She wondered if he did have hidden tats – and where? And did he drive a motorcycle. Was he married?

That her thoughts kept going back to marriage almost scared her. She tried not to think of him as she saw her turn. But Logan was a man that was hard not to think about. He'd had an air to him, something she couldn't explain. Self confidence, solidness. Of course something about him had seemed off at first, his nonchalance, how easy it was for him to ignore her! But that had turned her on too, the challenge of getting him to do his job. And she had! That made her feel giddy. She felt giddy at the thought of going back too. She didn't know anything about him, he could be a nutcase, anything, and yet she'd been so compellingly drawn to him!

As she drove onto the highway entrance all she knew for certain was that she was glad she'd met him and that she wanted to see him again. So, yes, she was going to go back. In a week, just a week and she'd see him again! The thought made her squeal quietly. A week to think about what might happen. She didn't have a clue, couldn't guess, she only knew that she was going to take a wild chance with this Logan guy. It was crazy and daring but also as simple as that.

But the thing is, with Logan it wasn't simple. Nothing in his life was simple. As Ororo rode out of his life he didn't think about the missed chance to keep her just a little longer by lying to her about the car, he just kept thinking that she was coming back! He had a week to wait, just seven long days, maybe eight, allowing for travel, and if she'd meant a work week maybe as soon as five days and he'd be able to see her again! He stood outside looking at the road. The sun was setting. He didn't notice the twinkling of the last lingering fireflies or the guy who worked with him come back from picking up a part. Finally he slipped inside the garage, locked up, went upstairs to his dingy, dark, little room and thought about everything he wanted to do with and to Ororo until he was utterly spent and then he slept. Scooter didn't get his bike that night.

Logan didn't dream of Ororo but of catching fireflies with his son when he was smaller. They were, putting them in a glass jar with a piece of his wife's old stocking held on with a rubber band for the top. His son used to observe the tiny bugs overnight then release them in the morning because Logan had always tried to teach him that life was sacred. What animals they hunted they honored by thanking them for their sacrifice, their life's blood, which gave them life in return. They'd never hunted for sport.

After his son's death fireflies were just an awful reminder of his son and how short life was so he was always glad when Autumn put them to sleep and out of sight. He breathed a little easier then. Not that he looked for them or even stepped outside after dusk if he could help it. Anything that reminded him of his son he avoided. Knowing that the fireflies were gone, and with them unwanted memories of his beautiful boy, made him hurt less. But his dream, though vivid, was peaceful as they raced around the large back yard of the house they used to live in, laughing and sharing in the joy of adventure and togetherness. He slept well for a change.

The day after meeting Ororo, Logan woke late, his head pounding. He stayed in bed for a few minutes as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to think. It occurred to him that he hadn't had a drink since being with her. He didn't feel good and he noticed his hands were shaking. He knew it wasn't because of a beautiful woman who'd gotten to him. He sat up, pulled open the top drawer to his rickety nightstand, and retrieved a bottle of gin then sat up, cleared his throat a couple of times as he scratched at his stubble covered jaw then unscrewed the bottle cap, tipped the bottle up and let the liquor flow. But it was a brief swallow. As the 80 proof liquor started down his throat he'd suddenly remembered his decision before he'd fallen asleep.

He was giving up booze. He didn't know if he could still keep thoughts of his son at bay without it but as his thoughts turned to Ororo there was no time to dwell on his miserable, tragic life. As he sat there wavering between fear and something now very alien to him – hope – he replayed what they'd talked about yesterday, how she'd looked at him, the vibes he'd gotten from her, as if he could have taken her in his arms and she wouldn't have resisted, even as absurd as that seemed. He thought a lot about how he'd felt when he'd seen her for the first time, the feelings that had electrified him and somehow brought him back to life. He thought about what she'd worn, how it fit her figure perfectly, the white and blue perfect colors for that beautiful brown skin and white hair. White hair! He wondered if she had white hair everywhere but thought she probably dyed it. He wondered what it would be like to touch her again, to hold her, to make love to her. And he thought about her taste in cars, that beautiful camaro, and her promise to come back to him!

He didn't even know her but his thoughts were filled with her. She was so beautiful that it made him want to cry and he never cried so that didn't make any sense but just the same that's how he felt. The way she'd kept smiling at him and she'd even waved as she'd left and told him she'd come back! He thought of her all morning as he went about his routine – shower, dress, breakfast of a protein bar but no gin to wash it down with this morning. The shakes would go away, he'd fight it because he had to. When she came back he'd vowed to be stone cold sober for she'd come into his life like a sudden storm and washed all the filth away. He didn't want to go back to how things used to be. He wanted to keep feeling fresh and clean. He saw her as his own sweet Storm. He didn't realize it then but meeting her had changed everything for him.

He would whistle tunes sometimes after she left and he'd sometimes smile when he looked off in the distance as he waited. Maybe he was crazy, he knew it was quite likely, but to pay for a tragic accident the rest of your life, without reprieve, never knowing love again, never seeing anything but a dark future, that wasn't any way to live. And yet what was he waiting for exactly? She would come back but then what? He couldn't exactly wine and dine her as he worked on her car, surely couldn't take her upstairs to his pathetic room.

He reckoned that a woman like her probably wanted a nice looking man, with a nice house, nice clothes, who was near as perfect as she was, someone who could take care of her properly. And that's when he realized he had a lot of work to do besides giving up booze. So he started working out again, stopped cussing, fought to give up smoking cold turkey, started wearing gloves when he worked in order to stay clean for her, started shaving daily, and he even worked on his manners with his bosses wife's help. He was never going to be anything like a movie star, couldn't change his short barrel-chested build or his stalking gait so much but everyone that knew him saw his sudden change and if anyone had been gone for a while and come back and they ran into him they barely recognized him.

The cashier at the local grocery store stepped back a little when Logan dropped his load of meat, fresh vegetables and cans of soup on the conveyor belt right before closing one night. She'd never seen him in the store before but she'd heard enough stories about him to know he wasn't right in the head. She'd heard the little ditty the children had made up about him.

 _There once was a man named Logan who shot his son dead. On a hunting trip he shot his poor son in the head. He never recovered, his wife left him for another, he became a drunk and his life was over._

He knew about it but he didn't care, not about what kids thought or what the cashier thought. All that mattered was Ororo. She was so heartrendingly beautiful! But even his boss and friend, James Hudson, began to think Logan was crazy when he started hauling out broken items from his apartment during the night, his old bed, the old, rickety nightstand, a broken chair, a useless radio clock, chipped plates and the like. He pulled up the old carpet in his efficiency one night after renting a sander and spent a whole night refinishing the exposed wood floor.

He always worked during the night so he could be out front during the day – waiting. He didn't care how tired he was. He cleaned his refrigerator out, stocked it with fruit and vegetables, cleaned every inch of his small abode from the ceiling and light fixtures to the baseboards. He had James' wife Heather put up curtains she'd picked out, in fact, she helped him pick out a new bed and furniture from a local furniture store's catalog. When he was finished with his place he started in on the little office. Heather had always scrunched up her nose whenever she'd stopped by but James hadn't cared any more than Logan had. She was happy to get new chairs and have him put the beat up chairs out with the trash. He cleaned and painted that old, worn office till it was almost like new. Heather was impressed. James worried for his friend's sanity. They didn't know he was doing all that to make everything presentable for a woman he couldn't stop thinking about and that might never return.

Every day he was outside, rain, shine, just working on vehicles where he could see the passing cars and accept Amazon Prime packages for things Heather had suggested like plates and glasses, lamps etcetera. Every day he rose early, full of hope. Every day he relived each moment they'd been together for those few minutes, over and over. He knew he was obsessed and yet there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't turn his brain off. It was just like the day he'd lost his son. He remembered every detail of that horrible day. But because he remembered every detail of the day he'd met Ororo that blocked out the details of his son. He went over their meeting repeatedly.

He'd woken up in an angry, vengeful mood, knowing he had to work on Summer's bike. He'd started drinking earlier than usual, had an argument with James, threatened to quit and James had just shook his head, called in his back up mechanic then walked off. That had worsened his mood. But then with the clicking of high heels along came Ororo. Those beautiful brown legs, beautiful body, the voice that had undone him, her gorgeous face, and then none of the anger, the self hatred and desperation that he'd been feeling had mattered. It had all been canceled out as he stared at the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

After his Storm came Logan he didn't think of all the things that had made him miserable least of all fireflies. He couldn't because every day, every moment, _she_ was in his thoughts. But finally, when all his preparations had been made and he could think of nothing else he could do to prepare for her, the realization of his foolishness sank in. And yet he imagined a thousand different scenarios, things he could've said, things he'd say when he saw her again. He'd wished she'd left her cell phone so he'd have her number or at least her contact list. He would've been able to call someone, tell them she'd left her phone, arrange for her to pick it up. She was just a phone call away – if only he knew her last name!

He hoped to see her again, longed to see her but he also wanted things to work out for them when that happened. He thought about all the problems with him and his ex, things he didn't want to be problems with his Storm. When he loved a woman he was true and loyal. He didn't fool around, didn't expect her too either, that was just how it should be. He knew there would be bad times, what idiot didn't? But if he loved someone he was willing to take the good with the bad. That was life and if she was worth it then it wouldn't matter. But would she really be worth it? Even as the weeks then months passed he didn't know the answer to that. He only wanted to be a man that she would want. He tried not to think of what he wanted which was a woman of integrity, which by not coming back like she'd fairly promised, well, it wasn't looking so good in that department. And yet he felt she would have come back if she'd been able. He felt she was worth it, worth everything and yet she hadn't shown.

For a year and a half he thought of nothing but her outside of the cars he worked on and keeping himself, his place, his office clean and neat for her. Yet he tried to be realistic. He tried to let her go. But as time passed she continued to remain his obsession. It was what kept him sane. Planning a future for them even though he didn't know what that would be. And that kept him busy, imaging how things might be, longing to start over fresh and new. Starting something wonderful and lasting.

He figured she'd want kids and he'd struggled with that. But he'd finally come to the conclusion that he would try again – for her! He wondered how she'd want to raise a kid and then for the first time he thought of race. His little town was mostly white. He'd never thought about it growing up there. When he'd joined the marine corps he'd been friends with all kinds of people. Color had never mattered to him. It mattered to ignorant asses and there were a lot of those types in his town. That was the first time he'd thought about moving, keeping her and their kids safe from racists. And he wondered what their kids would look like. Over the years, just thinking about having a family again with her, it made him happy.

He figured the important things were sex, which wouldn't be a problem, kids, friends, living arrangements, religion, politics and money, the latter wasn't an issue either since he didn't have a lot of living expenses and he'd taken to saving nearly every penny for their future plus he could get a job anywhere even start his own garage. He wondered if she was a democrat or a republican. Did it even matter to her? It didn't matter to him. Before the accident he'd been an independent, voting for the most qualified candidate, even though he was a staunch NRA member and proud of it. But what were _her_ views? That had troubled him but it had occurred to him that the best way to keep friends and loved ones was to not discuss politics and religion. Nevertheless, he figured religion could be the biggest hurdle for them.

He didn't believe in anything although he wished he could. When the ambulance had taken his son to the hospital he'd sat there holding his lifeless hand even though he'd known there was no hope. But he'd been so desperate that he'd prayed and prayed, over and over. He'd never believed in a God after that. But if she did, in order to be with her, he knew he'd better look into it because if she were a Christian she wouldn't want to be unequally yoked, he knew that much. And if she were a Muslim maybe that might be an issue too, being unequally yoked. If she had a father and brothers and they were Muslim they probably wouldn't want him with her.

He started reading the Bible, the Koran, he researched Jehovah Witnesses, looked into, Judaism, Mormonism and even into the Nation of Islam and Scientology. After a while he just hoped she was like him, no belief in anything. He didn't want to get hooked on any religion until he knew what she was and yet the Bible, with the promise of a Savior and a heaven where he could be with her forever, drew him in. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life," he'd memorized that. Was his son in heaven?

His ex wife had taken their son to church and one day when he was older he'd come back talking about Jesus and trying to explain His resurrection and how it was the coolest thing he'd ever heard, that he'd died to save him and everyone from their sins. Logan had just humored him and wondered if he should put a stop to all the church going. Now, as he dreamed and planned, he wanted to believe. He wanted to be with Ororo forever, to be buried side by side. She was that deep in his heart.

Years later when he finally started to see that she wasn't coming back, instead of hope anger took hold of him. Nothing he'd done for her made any sense. You just didn't fall in love with a woman you'd only seen a handful of minutes. He'd been stupid to believe that she'd actually keep her word and come back, have him check her brand new car out! He was pissed at her for lying. He was angry with himself for not having said something, done something, anything to keep her there, for not trying to find her, not following her, for just waiting and waiting and waiting, hopelessly, lost in thoughts of the brown skinned, white haired, blue eyed beauty who came into his life, a true, fresh breath of air, like rain cleansing the fragile remains of what little heart he had left.

After his anger died he realized maybe it was for the best that she'd never come back because, in truth, what did he have to offer? He was a grease monkey living above the garage he worked in. Not that he was ashamed of working on cars but a woman like that probably wasn't going to settle down in a rinky dink town and live above the garage with him even if he'd turned his efficiency into a decent apartment and the garage into such a successful business that James had made him manager over several more mechanics. After the long waiting, deep inside, his hope was shattered, and he knew she would never come back.

Eventually he decided she'd been killed in a car accident, that beautiful car smashed so badly that it and Ororo were unrecognizable. But he didn't like that thought. It reminded him of his life before her. He had to see her alive and okay to push thoughts of his past out of his mind. Maybe she'd just stayed in New York for whatever reason. Or maybe she'd looked and looked for him but forgot what exit to take, and after years of trying to find him she finally gave up. Like he should. Only he couldn't. He wished she had more faith in them like he did.

But he was filled with the deepest sorrow too. He still couldn't stop thinking of her. He didn't regret the changes he'd made. He'd struggled with getting sober, had wanted a drink so many times over the years but he'd known the consequences of falling back into that routine because after he drank, after he gave in, then what? He'd lose any chance of being with her and he wasn't going to take that chance even if he was never going to see her again. He cared, now, when before he'd had nothing to live for and didn't give a damn. So he had a lot to thank her for.

Maybe he wasn't any more sociable than before but he wasn't the town drunk anymore, a loser drowning in sorrow and gin. But none of that even mattered. The only thing that had mattered over the long years was her. He could always turn his thoughts back to Ororo when his mind sunk into the mire of self hate and regrets and anguish and doubt and all the questions of afterlife. He would never forget her for as long as he had breath in his body.

After his obsession began to fade he became less and less sure that he would see her again but he waited just the same. He just couldn't bring himself to stop waiting because what if he missed his only chance to see her again? Although he thought of her less and less he still imagined that one day he'd be standing inside the office just looking out wishing a shiny, silver Chevrolet camaro super sport coupe would pull up and then, just like that, it would! But it was always his ex's blue BMW convertible that pulled up.

Roused from his daydreams of Ororo he shook his head, annoyed, as he glanced at the BMW now as he pushed through the glass door to see what his ex wanted this time. He always greeted every customer regardless because he always hoped the next customer would be his Storm. But his ex wife always pulled up in her seven year old BMW to flash some flesh or snub him or rattle on about her life with Scott, she never mentioned her two kids. Logan thought she'd seen that he'd turned back into the man he'd used to be just as he saw how she'd turned into a wrinkled woman, dying her hair red and fighting old age. He figured she wanted him back, probably tired of Scott who was drinking now and having an affair with some blonde who was new in town. He'd learned that from his mechanics who were worse gossips than women. He usually ignored them but if it was true he was sorry for his ex.

With a sigh, he slowly walked over to her car. His thoughts drifted miles away to New York. He'd often wondered what Salem Center was like, had even looked it up a few times. He'd thought about going out there but had realized it might be difficult tracking her down even in a small city even though there couldn't be anyone else in the whole world that looked like her. But he didn't like the idea of actually tracking and stalking her. That was something only desperate dudes did!

He whistled a tune as he walked to the car. He no longer felt the need to show off and impress his ex and he didn't really care why she kept coming back. He wondered if his Storm had a lot of wrinkles and sagging jowls and signs of age like his ex. He didn't want to think she did even though _he_ had a lot more wrinkles and knew she had to because everyone got old. He decided he'd still love her if she did because how could he not?

The top to the blue convertible wasn't down which he was glad of, the less he saw of the ex the better, and if the top was up it usually meant she wanted a quick oil change or a tire aired up instead of talk. He thought he was ready for anything she could throw at him but when the car door opened he wasn't ready at all. A pair of long, brown, shapely legs slid out and stopped him in his tracks. His heart nearly stopped too. It was her! Unchanged snow fall of hair and yes, those vivid blue eyes that had seemed to read him and in a short pink dress with a brown sweater this time. But she didn't look like she recognized him. He almost felt sick to his stomach as she looked at him uncertainty.

They peered at each other for a moment. He saw she was hesitant. But when her face lit up with the smile he remembered after all these years he knew she remembered him too, the middle aged man with black, shaggy hair, dirty hands, black grease and oil thick under his nails, running after their dream of a car, his dream of a woman, her waving as she screeched off. Her smile was so open and bright, the brightness spreading over her face, her very being, and in turn infusing _his_ very being.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

Once again he felt that she didn't recognize him and for a few seconds he cursed himself for having changed so much. And yet he felt as if he'd known her all his life and they'd only been apart for maybe a week at most.

"Been waiting for ya all this time, darlin'," he blurted out because he had to. She laughed, causing his doubt and frustration to subside. But when she didn't reply his stomach felt queasy again. "What happened to your camaro?" he inquired, studying her.

"Oh, my car!" she cried. "It was totaled! I loved that car."

"Damn!"

"I know. I know." She shook her head and looked as sad as she sounded.

"But you were alright, huh? I mean you look great!"

She looked at him and then away, as if she were seeing something he couldn't. He felt for her. That was one beaut of a car! He watched her as she swallowed hard and seemed to fight for control. She turned away from him slightly, looked up at the sky. The sun would soon set. Somehow this seemed so familiar, almost like deja vu. She wondered if she'd come back sooner would things have turned out differently. Would she have her car? Would she have been happy with this man?

"I loved that car too," he said, feeling kind of foolish and giving a little shrug as she wiped at her eyes.

She sniffed and nodded, feeling stupid and weak because she wanted to be held, to cry for everything she'd lost and wanted.

"Hey, I'll get ya a tissue," he said and was glad to make a break for it as he jogged to the office while telling himself he could do this.

He plucked a couple of tissues from a box then spun around to hurry back to her then stopped abruptly so he didn't run into her. She'd followed him in and she smiled, her eyes bright from tears. He handed her the tissues which she took. He saw her look around the office as she dabbed at her damp face. He felt a moment of panic but remembered that it wasn't the same dirty place that she'd so obviously disdained all those years ago. He'd kept it spic and span ever since, just in case – just in case.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she looked around. She remembered the place had been awful before but now the office was tidy and clean and not only that but he was the cleanest mechanic she'd ever seen. It was curious. She thought of that cigar that had smelled so horrible, the red plastic cup of what she'd known was alcohol from the smell she'd caught on his breath when they'd taken that ride in her camaro. She wondered if he was still drinking on the job or had that just been a one time thing? Maybe it had been or maybe, hopefully, he'd given it up. She didn't want an alcoholic. She rolled her eyes at her thoughts and silently reprimanded herself. She'd promised herself that she wasn't going to think like that anymore.

But he was still handsome, still sexy and those thoughts crept back unbidden. He was different now though. He'd changed as completely as everything around him. The garage was even remodeled on the outside and there were two large terracotta flower pots of red geraniums on either side of the door, a nice welcoming touch. Everything was clean and welcoming! But of course things had changed, all things change and deep down she'd known to expect that. But even though he was cleaner, neater, no stubble, still had hair and it was actually combed, he was still the same – dark, stalking eyes, ruggedly handsome, and it was totally comfortable being with him. She smiled, glad he hadn't changed drastically.

"So where're ya headed?" he asked nonchalantly although he didn't feel nonchalant.

"Home," she said but then frowned because she didn't know where home was now.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm hmm," she said softly. "I haven't been home in a while. Well, home was with my – well I guess I don't know where home is now."

"Why'd ya stay away so long?"

She sighed. "I was visiting a friend, a teacher at a private school in New York. When I got there they had a position open and asked me if I wanted it and I said yes." She shrugged. "I had my roommate mail my things out to me, I didn't have the time to drive all the way back there and then to New York again with school starting so soon."

"So, you're a teacher!" He was so glad to know why she hadn't come back and he'd always wondered what she did for a living.

"I was."

"Got tired of it?"

She shook her head.

"So . . . ya headed back ta New York then?"

She saw how quizzically he looked at her and for some reason she felt she should explain. "We kind of, well I ended up marrying him – my friend. That is why I never left. He proposed the day I was supposed to leave and – well, the job offer was open and, well I stayed."

"Oh." He was crushed.

Neither spoke. All his miraculously answered dreams had just evaporated.

"Um, so . . . you two still together?" he ventured hesitantly as his mind raced for she had implied that she wasn't teaching anymore and she hadn't said she was going back to New York either.

She snorted and hope quickly rose again.

"No. He drank – a lot . . ." she replied, unable to say more. His stomach seemed to flip flop. He was relieved but he recalled how hard it had been for him to give up drinking. He almost had sympathy for her ex.

"It's hard ta stop drinkin'," he said quietly knowing he'd lost to this guy.

"I suppose," she said, looking at him intently, wondering if he still drank.

"I stopped," he said bluntly.

"Oh? Well that is . . . wonderful, truly but _he_ never did. It killed him in the end. He was driving drunk and, well, he's dead." She stopped, frowned, and started to tear up just as she had when she'd spoken of her beloved car.

"You . . . uh, must've really loved him, huh?"

"I . . . I don't know. I thought – maybe? I . . ." she stopped again as she looked at him. She didn't know how to explain that she'd been so desperate for love back then, so desperate that she'd felt as if she could have loved him that day they'd met. She'd wanted to see him again, had thought of going back but she knew that was a foolish daydream while her boyfriend was real and loved her and wanted her. And yet she'd always felt something was missing in their marriage. Now, as she stood there with Logan, she thought she knew what it was but she couldn't put it into words.

"I lost someone I loved too," he admitted, something he'd never imagined telling her.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said and the way she said it, looked, he could tell she really was.

He studied her, wanting to never forget her beautiful, unlined face. If this was all he got then it was enough. The pain of the loss of his son was a dull thing now, long smothered by hope for a future he'd constantly imagined even when he'd despondently realized it was just a pipe dream, his future with her. But he felt gratitude towards her because of that. If it hadn't been for her he'd never have made all his crazy plans, never would've waited for her year after year which gave him reason for living. Instead he might have drank himself into a grave in his desperate grief, blame and self hatred and he'd be burning in hell he supposed.

"Yeah, I'm sorry ta hear about your loss," he said, and he truly was. No one should have to lose someone they loved. But that was life. He'd faced his demons and returned to life because of her even after he'd started thinking she'd never come back.

She shrugged. "I wasted years of my life trying to make something work that I knew never could until he wanted it to work. But then for better or worse and all that rot I suppose."

They were quiet for a little while. She looked sadder and he wondered how much she'd loved her husband and if he could compete with a ghost.

"We'd had an argument and he took my car. He died with my car," she confessed. He saw pain wash over her face and he wondered if it was for the car or the husband.

"Life's hard," he commented, trying not to reach for her.

"It is," she said. "I couldn't help him any more than I could save my car. I . . . I called him and texted but he refused to answer. He . . . he took my car without asking and he knew how I felt about that! I was so angry with him, the drinking, stealing my car to be vindictive! The police said he was probably distracted, he'd checked voicemail and was texting me back when – well, he didn't see the truck . . ." her voice choked and she swallowed hard. "It was my fault, my fault he's dead," she whispered.

"No, darlin'!" he exclaimed, taking a step towards her.

"Do you really think it wasn't?" she asked and the desperate hope he heard in his voice tore him up.

He nodded. But tears were running down her cheeks again and her body trembled with doubt and grief and confusion and emptiness. And suddenly she felt him turning her to him and he pulled her to him and held her, as strange and unexpected as it was. And just as strange and unexpected she found herself putting her arms around him and letting herself cry.

When she stopped crying and moved away from him she wanted to step back into his arms and he wanted to pull her back to him. They looked at each other but said nothing. And then she blew her nose quietly and he grinned. Such a simple thing, things like that, things he hadn't imagined she'd do, of course she would! She was just a woman, not the untouchable goddess he'd imagined, his Storm to be. Seeing this made him feel a little lighter.

"You're gonna be alright," he said, nodding, for he knew.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She smiled briefly, unsure, hoping. "I wished I hadn't texted when I was so angry but . . ."

"Ya didn't make him read it, darlin'! In the end it was _his_ choice, his choice ta drink an' drive an' text. That pretty much says it all."

He watched her as she thought this over then finally nodded. He hoped she saw that was the truth.

"What's done is done, it's over and done with, life goes on," he said, needing her to see that.

"You have a good point. Well, I am through with men. That is for sure," she blurted out though she didn't know why.

Logan's heart sank again. She thought he looked almost dejected and it made her smile though she knew she shouldn't have. Being with this man who looked at her like no other man had ever looked at her just did something to her. It made her feel better, about herself and her messed up life. It made her happy. But it also scared her. His touch, so natural and welcomed – how did she ever let herself get away with this visit, she wondered as she watched him go out, back to her car. It was just supposed to be a quick hello and back in her car, that's all, she thought as she followed him. But she was still smiling, death and lost cars and promises to herself forgotten.

As he worked on the BMW she told him it was her husband's. He wondered that his ex and hers had the same car, a plain 2010 BMW 650i convertible, that he didn't care for but then he figured he was biased. She talked more than she had before. She told him of the school where she taught, of the children, how much fun they had been, how hard it was to deal with the administrative side. She spoke of how hard it was to live in a little town, feeling like an outsider. His heart sunk as the sun sunk low in the sky by time he finished. He'd lingered over his work, basking in the late autumn sun and her soft accented voice. He knew she would leave him, realistically how could she not? He couldn't keep her in another little town where she'd feel equally out of place. But it had been the best day of his life since the first day he'd first met her. He'd always have that at least.

"So, what do I owe you?" she asked when they headed back to the office as he peeled his gloves off.

"Nothing," he said, dropping the gloves into a trash can under the counter, not thinking about gloves to keep his hands clean for her or anything except that this was the last time he'd ever see her.

"What?"

"I-I kinda been waitin' ta give ya – I mean, ta give someone a favor."

"I can't let you do that, you worked on that car all afternoon, besides you have to make a living!"

"I ain't got money problems, I'm even thinking' of buyin' this place from my friend. Anyway, you can't let me do anything I don't wanna do," he said, thinking that for _her_ he had saved for the future, for _her_ he'd given up drinking, for her he'd changed his way of life – all for just one day of being with her.

"I wish you'd let me give you something," she said and sighed then sat down as if undecided on what to do.

"You hungry?" he asked shortly when he saw her glance at the vending machine in a corner.

She was sitting in a comfortable, clean chair that she thought was real leather and she looked from the vending machine to him then nodded.

"I can make ya a salad, I got all the making's in my fridge upstairs."

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Thank you but I'm not in the mood for salad."

And he laughed. He'd imagined that was pretty much all she ate to keep that figure that was exactly as hot as it had been before. "How 'bout I fix ya a sandwich?"

She thought over his offer, weighing the risks. She didn't know him at all. It was only upstairs. He watched her all the while. She thought he liked her. She wondered if he felt what she felt, the attraction, desire, need, destiny?

"Let me get my purse out of the car," she said and got up.

"Ya don't have ta pay me!"

"Uh, well, my phone is in it," she said because she had pepper spray in her purse. Despite the faded memory of desire she'd felt for him she'd been practical too.

He couldn't stop grinning as he stood by the door and watched her walk to the car, hips gently swaying. She retrieved her purse and he saw she was smiling too as she started back. He took that for a good sign. He held the door open for her when she came back then, with a hand on the small of her back, guided her through the garage bay, annoyed when the two mechanics he had working for him stopped what they were doing and stared with their mouths open. All the while Logan's heart was pounding. Her visit wasn't over yet! She wasn't leaving. Not yet. She was his for a little while still.

He grinned as he saw her look admiringly at his neat little room. He had a gray sectional, tiny dining set, bookcases full of books, but that was about all she could see aside from the gleaming wood floor and some lamps. Everything was organized and clean. The tiny kitchen was, well, tiny, but just as neat. She watched him wash his hands, scrub at his nails with a nail brush, and she thought how unlike he was from the men she knew. They weren't dirty but they weren't so meticulous either.

"I remembered you," she said when he handed her a pink, floral plate and on it a sandwich of wheat bread with dark green lettuce sticking out, arugula she guessed as she took it.

He looked at her so oddly that she suddenly felt uncomfortable and she stood up.

"I should go," she said, wishing she hadn't spoken.

He wanted to stop her, pull her into his arms again and hold her, never let her go, but how could he?

"Thank you," she said, feeling as odd as he'd looked at her and she placed the plate beside a book on an ottoman that matched the sectional and seemed to be used as a coffee table and then she quickly started for the door.

He felt his entire being collapsing. He didn't know what he could do. All the plans he'd had were like dust in the air, scattered, almost intangible. He could barely follow her out. She walked so fast that she was in her dead husband's car and feeling foolish before he caught up. With one last thank you she hastily drove off into the fading light. Except this time there was no screech of tires, no dust in her rear view mirror and when she looked back she saw him. He was running after her, waving for her to stop.

"How do you pronounce your name, darlin'?" he asked when he'd caught up to her after she'd stopped.

"Or-or-o," she said slowly, thinking he might be dangerous with the way he'd ran after her but also wishing desperately that he wasn't.

"Good, I thought so. Ororo. Good." He grinned, thinking how idiotic it would've been if he'd forgotten how to say her name and then he chuckled and held out his hand. "I'm Logan."

"Right! Logan! Hi." She smiled, extending her hand through the open window. She'd long forgotten his name and wished she hadn't.

"Are . . . you in a real hurry?" His other hand covered hers so that she was trapped, his prisoner in that moment.

"In a hurry?"

He watched her think this over and he felt again that rising desperation that he hadn't felt since the death of his son and the long dark days afterward, before her. But suddenly Ororo's desperation dissipated. His warm hands holding hers were like magic and she felt as if she could do anything if she were with him. It didn't make sense but that didn't matter. She'd felt intensely curious about him when she'd met him long ago, so completely drawn to him. He'd fascinated her. She couldn't have told herself or anyone else why. His masculinity had captured her, left her feeling weak and vulnerable. She remembered him as the most secure male, totally secure in his masculinity. She'd wanted him to ask her out but had thought of the dirtiness of everything there and the absurdity of what she was feeling and she'd driven off, dismissing her attraction to him just as she had forced herself to just do again. And she wished he'd ran after her that first time and as she thought this she knew what she had to do.

"I'm not in a hurry," she said and she smiled, full of hope and anticipation.

He hadn't expected that but he'd had to try this time. "If ya wanna pay me back maybe you'll let me take ya out ta dinner for a real meal then," he said.

He saw how surprised she looked and it made him feel even more desperate. He couldn't let her go again, not without trying this time! And yet he dropped her hand and stepped back, feeling defeated. All the years of waiting seemed to well up like a flood and with it the old, horrible ache that he'd tried to ignore by hoping and waiting for her. But he gathered himself, took a stand, feet firmly planted, mind made up, defeat not an option.

"Look, Ororo, I don't drink, got no girlfriend, gave up smoking just in case it might bother ya – I mean I-I been waitin' for ya since the day I first saw ya! I kept ya longer than I shoulda that day just ta be near you. I been waitin' all this time for you ta come back like ya said ya would." He sighed, knowing he had to sound as crazy as everyone in town thought he was.

But her eyes grew huge and she looked stunned more than anything. "W-waiting f-for me?" she asked, taken aback.

He nodded. And she nodded in turn. She'd thought of him from time to time, a sudden memory of him popping up inexplicably, the unexplained attraction she'd felt for him. She'd always wondered why she'd felt so drawn to him, why she still felt the attraction, why she'd always planned to go back to find him.

"Ya did something ta me no other woman ever has, don't know what exactly, but I think you felt it too, like . . . like we were supposed ta be together!" he finished quickly then waited, waited for her reaction.

She didn't say anything and he couldn't help looking as desperate as he felt.

" _Didn't_ you?" he finally demanded.

Her lips parted as if she would answer but she only looked torn. He felt as if she were waging a battle with herself as he watched confusion, uncertainty and then what he hoped was realization wash over her face, the face he'd never forgotten and never would.

"Why'd you stop here after all these years, Ororo? Ya had ta have known I'd be here waiting! Why did ya come back, darlin'?"

"Because of you," she admitted and with her admission everything seemed to stop for Logan. He didn't hear the power tools in the garage, didn't hear a rumbling semi truck drive by, couldn't see the sky, the clouds or even the asphalt road beneath his boots.

Ororo wished that he would hold her. She'd found comfort in his arms even though the embrace had surprised her. It had been a very long time since a man had held her like that with genuine concern for her. It was strange, this man, how she felt connected to him, separated by only a span of feet and words unspoken.

"I-I felt it too – still," she said. What she felt for him was what had been missing in her marriage. Magnetism, attraction of such an extent that no one else seemed to matter. She'd instinctively known that she could have loved the mechanic who'd looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in that little time they'd been together. She felt that now. And she saw that she'd been waiting for him too all these years even though she hadn't known it.

Logan let loose a long breath as all the tension in him, along with the drudgery of all the years of waiting, suddenly left him.

"Can I take ya out ta dinner?" he asked.

She hesitated then slowly nodded.

He wanted to let out a whoop and grab her and hug her but he controlled himself and just grinned.

Dinner was at a small diner a few buildings up from the garage. Ororo had fries and a surprisingly delicious grilled cheese sandwich with country ham, something she hadn't tried before. She didn't notice the people staring at them because she was too engrossed in the company of this man whom she admitted she was peculiarly infatuated with. He listened attentively, just as he had earlier. They talked for hours, and lingered long over chocolate cake and coffee. And he barraged her with questions. He seemed to want to know everything about her. It was flattering.

And he learned everything that he'd longed to know. Her parent's were dead, her mother an African princess at that! She'd struggled without parents, an orphaned street urchin in Egypt finally wandering into Kenya, something he would never have guessed but it explained her accent which he'd never quite been able to pinpoint. And he'd been able to commiserate with her because he'd been orphaned. She told him of her mentor who'd sponsored her trip to the States and of her struggle to get through college, working two jobs sometimes.

He watched her almost in awe, remembering how warm and solid and real she'd felt in his arms. She talked about her elation when she'd been able to go to college, how she'd made some good friends before graduating and how happy she'd been teaching even though she'd chosen to quit. He noticed she didn't talk about her late husband and he didn't ask. He didn't want to know. He didn't want anything to ruin their time together. He couldn't remember feeling so happy, not even – well, he didn't want to think about his son but that was the only thing that could compare.

Ororo saw he suddenly looked distracted and wondered where his thoughts had gone.

"Hey," she said.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh." He sighed. "I was just thinking how good you make me feel. I haven't felt like this since my son was born."

"Oh, you have a son! How old is he?"

"He would have been twenty-one this year."

"Oh, Logan, I am so sorry," she said and reached out and covered his hand with hers.

Her touch, her concern touched him and he suddenly blinked back tears. "Thanks. But, yeah, it's okay. It's been six years now."

She felt his hand clasp hers and hold on as if he needed an anchor and she wanted to be that anchor for him.

"So, we have both suffered guilt," she said.

He nodded, looking at her intently because how could she know how guilty he felt? Just then a waitress with green Kool-Aid dyed hair came over and thrust a check at him. "We're closing in fifteen minutes," she said.

"Oh! I didn't realize how late it was!" Ororo exclaimed as she reached for her purse.

"I've got it. Thanks Lorna."

Ororo noticed the waitress named Lorna rolled her eyes at Logan which angered her.

"She was rude!" Ororo said when the woman left.

"Guess ya oughta know, everyone around here thinks I'm bat sh – uh, well, they think I'm pretty crazy."

Ororo shook her head, confused. "Why would they think that? You seem so nice! You're so helpful!"

"It's a long story," he said but he grinned, hope rising again with her compliment.

She tilted her head slightly as she looked at him but he didn't elaborate.

"Maybe we lose ourselves a little when we lose someone," she said. "One moment they're with you and then they're gone and you cannot comprehend how they are no longer with you, to talk to, to laugh with, and that they will never be there again. How can you ever get over that? And how can anyone even begin to understand that unless they've gone through it themselves?"

Logan looked at her and she saw that his eyes were once again watery as if he were going to cry.

"Are you alright?" she asked, instinctively laying her hand on his again.

"Yeah," he said but his voice was so deep and thick with emotion that she knew he wasn't. He caught her hand in his and with a pained look and a strangled voice he said, "I killed my son."

She was sure she hadn't heard him right but immediately thoughts of serial killers filled her mind. But the grimace on his face, showing only a fraction of his pain, erased those thoughts almost as fast, and she squeezed his hand.

He gave a kind of half nod. He looked broken, his head hanging dejectedly.

"I shot him," he confessed.

Ororo caught her breath and shook her head again and again. She couldn't believe it!

"It was an accident, a hunting trip. I killed my son," he finished, his voice breaking as he swiped at a tear.

"Oh, Logan, how can you live with that? You poor, poor man!"

He looked at her, his tears streaming now, and he saw that she didn't hate him like everyone else besides James and Heather. He'd thought she would which is why he hadn't planned on telling her but he only felt genuine empathy from her. Then Ororo got up and did something that caught him by surprise. She leaned down and hugged him and he surprised her by pulling her to him so that she settled on his lap. And then it just felt right as they held onto each other. Neither noticed the other customers staring at them, whispering, as he cried silently in her arms.

She didn't know what to say so she said nothing, not knowing that all he needed was what she'd instinctively given him, unconditional trust and empathy.

"Time was, after my son, I couldn't stop thinking of him, of what I'd done. I was a vegetable, they put me on meds just so I could function," he said after he'd gotten control of himself.

"How could you be anything else? I couldn't imagine going through that!"

"He'd given his reflective vest to some idiot who didn't bring one. I didn't know! It was so stupid on my part." And then his words just spilled out. He told her how he'd hated Summer's, had been showing off because of pride and jealousy, and afterward, how his wife hated him, how everyone hated him, blaming him and that he'd become the town pariah. He explained that he hadn't had to do time but it was as if the whole town had sentenced him to never forget that he'd killed their hometown football hero that they'd all been certain would play for the Bengals in the NFL one day.

He told of how he'd wanted to die and would have had if not for the meds that his ex had started sneaking into his alcohol. He told her how he'd turned to booze to dull the pain, becoming a mean drunk, how he'd lost everything and didn't care. He told her how his friend James had tried to help him, putting up with his off and on work schedule, paying bills for him, trying to get him to soldier on because they'd been buddies in the Corps. He told her how his ex wife seemed to enjoy taunting him, driving by or stopping by all the time after they divorced. He insisted that she didn't love him and never had when Ororo, almost jealousy, said that maybe she still cared.

He laughed. "I was messed up back then, even before we got married. I knew she was seeing Summer's but I didn't care. I outright stole her from him, thought I got what I wanted too only I wasn't as good as Summers, never could compare, just wasn't him. I was never good enough for her. Guess I got what I deserved."

Ororo nodded, still perched on his lap. She guessed at how troubled he'd been after losing his parents and then with the tragedy of his son and how alone he must've felt after that. She ached for him.

"You must think I'm a complete idiot, huh?" he asked as he stole a glance at her.

She smiled sympathetically, shook her head. "No, I do not! Although I suppose we all are at some point if you think about it."

"That was how I was _all_ the time, a big headed punk."

She chuckled.

"I learned my lesson though. Ya never take what's not yours."

There was a moment of silence, comfortable and natural, as they looked at each other. Logan had told her everything. He'd had everything to lose but it was out now. He felt depleted.

"I never talked about any of that before, never even cried after . . . after it happened," he said.

"It must have been hard, talking about it now, reliving all that."

He nodded slightly. And then he grinned. "So, ya know all about me now," he said and kind of shrugged.

She studied him then shook her head as she got off his lap, marveling at how easy it was being with him. "I think that is just the tip of the iceberg," she said.

He let out a sigh of relief. He got up too, took her hand, squeezed, then brought it to his lips for a tender kiss. Ororo cocked her head slightly as he lingered over her hand in a moment of emotion.

"Hey, we gotta get outta here," he said suddenly as he let her hand go and wiped his face with the palms of his hands. After he left a small pile of bills on the table he put his hand on the small of her back and steered her to the door.

She caught her breath. He'd done that before and it had taken her aback but now, his touch, old fashioned and gentlemanly, felt so intimate.

"Oh, great," Logan muttered as he saw Scott Summers standing at the cash register waiting for his take out. His wife wasn't with him but his two kids were. A little red head girl and a small brown haired boy were putting quarters in the machines across from the cash register, hoping for toys or candy just like Logan's own little boy had done so many times before.

"Hey," Scott said with a curt nod.

Logan looked from the kids to the father and though he would've usually ignored all of them he suddenly felt heavy with remorse and guilt.

"Hey, look, Scott I got somethin' ta say ta ya, ain't gonna say it but once but, well, I'm sorry about – well, everything with Red an' all. Shoulda told ya that a long time ago."

Scott looked shocked. He couldn't recall a time when Logan had ever called him anything other than Scooter or Summers. And he was apologizing?

"Wow," Scott murmured. And then he looked as if he were going to blush as he ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, well I . . . I've always wanted to apologize for what happened that day with . . ."

"No need to," Logan said quickly, shaking his head.

Scott nodded. They were quiet then, except the kids who were tugging at Scott, wanting more quarters.

"I hope everything works out for you, Logan," Scott finally said, looking at Ororo curiously before turning his attention to his children.

"It will," Logan said with sudden certainty. He felt as if a burden had been lifted from his heart with his confessions, to Ororo and now to the man he hated most. Only he didn't hate him now. He didn't hate anyone. The world was big and wide and his for the taking now that he could see clearly and had forgiven and asked for forgiveness.

Scott watched Logan hold the door open for the tall beauty that looked so strikingly familiar. Ororo didn't recall him but she was touched by Logan's actions. This is a man, a real man, she thought.

"I guess this is goodbye," he said when they were outside.

Ororo's stomach sunk. She didn't want it to be goodbye. They looked out at the dark night. Fireflies twinkled in the trees and grass.

"I love lightning bugs," she remarked.

"Yeah," he said and he realized then that he could enjoy them too, not with his son but with her. For a moment at least.

She started walking back to Hudson's garage where they'd left her car. He felt suddenly deflated as he hurried after her.

"I've . . . I've really enjoyed . . . this. Thank you for dinner," she said when she stopped beside her car.

"Yeah, of course, no problem."

"So . . ."

He hated himself but he opened the car door for her. She hated herself but she got in and let him shut the door behind her.

"Thanks for comin' back to me," he said, his voice gruff and heavy.

"I'm sorry it took so long," she said, startled by his words.

"I'm probably better for it."

She wished she could say the same but she wanted this man and here she was leaving him, never to see him again. But suddenly he reached for her through the car window, held her face between his clean hands, and kissed the woman he'd been dreaming of and knew he'd always dream of even after she was gone.

"Can you stay?" he asked after he'd kissed her and she looked at him dreamily.

She opened her mouth, exhaled, grinned and nodded. "I'd been thinking about staying for a few days," she said.

"Yeah?"

The look of rapture on his face made her grin wider. "Yeah," she said.

He was floored when she told him she'd actually checked online for hotels in the area and there was a little bed and breakfast she'd considered but hadn't booked although she'd seen they had several rooms available so she thought she'd stay there. His laugh was filled with relief and gratitude. He hoped she'd invite him to go along but she only smiled and waved, just like before, and then she was driving away. But unlike before she stopped. And waited. And like before he ran, no, he raced to her.

He found he could hardly breathe. He was full of emotion, shock, joy, such elation. She was staying for another day! He wouldn't have to part with her for another 24 hours! Twenty-four whole hours! Every minute he could be with her he would never sink back into the abyss he'd been in with all the doubting and waiting and regretting. No, he'd be ever thankful for this woman that he had loved since the day he'd first seen her. And he vowed to himself that he'd do everything he could to make her love him even if it was for just a day or till they were old and gray, whether there in his little town or anywhere she wanted to go. And as the fireflies twinkled in the bushes nearby Logan got into the passenger seat and they drove off, both anxious but also happy and full of hope.

 **Epilogue**

It was a whirlwind courtship. Ororo stayed the weekend. And then the week and then another and another. Her friends told her she was crazy when she told them he'd asked her to marry him. They complained that she hadn't known him a month! She told them she'd known him for five years and counting. They warned her of all the bad in the world and reminded her of recent unsolved abductions and brutality. But Logan was the best thing that had happened to her she told them. They just fit. Somehow, who knew why, but they belonged together. It was as if they'd yearned for each other all their lives.

After her friends met the man that none of them had ever heard of before and they saw how reverently he treated Ororo, the care and love he showed for her, they finally understood. And after Ororo and Logan were pronounced man and wife a month after they'd met the second time, and Logan kissed his longed for bride, they cheered and clapped, certain that they had never been loved like he loved Ororo. They were envious but they hoped it would last. And who knew if it would, it was all so sudden.

Logan chuckled as he took his wife's hand in his and kissed it gently. "So, ya gonna stick around a while, Storm?" he asked. And she laughed at the nickname he'd given her but she nodded and kept nodding. And then he kissed her again before leading her down the aisle, leading them into a new life full of the beautiful, welcoming unknown.

And so you know part of the story of a man named Logan who suffered tragedy but rose from the conflagration. Though hope came slowly, because he took a chance, he was able to grab hold of love and never let go. And life goes on, the bitter with the sweet, life goes on.

 **~Fini** ~


End file.
